m 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


V 


ij. 


o 


S  f<i^  M.^ 


.0       %o 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


1^     1^ 


1.4 


|Z5 

1.6 


V] 


<^ 


/w 


z 


y 


/A 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


r> 


\ 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions 


Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


1980 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


□    Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

□    Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommag^e 

□    Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pellicul6e 

□    Cover  title  missing/ 
Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


D 
D 
D 
D 
D 


D 


□ 


Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  g6ographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serr^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intdrieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  dtait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  filmdes. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl6mentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  Id  mdthode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 


I      I    Coloured  pages/ 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 


I      I    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 


Pages  restaur^es  et/ou  pellicul^es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  ddcolor6es,  tachetdes  ou  piqu6es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d6tach6es 


I      I    Showthrough/ 


n 


Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Quality  indgale  de  I'impression 


I      I    Includes  supplementary  material/ 


Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 


D 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  filmdes  d  nouveau  de  fagon  & 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


m 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu6  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X 22X 

7 


26X 


30X 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Harold  Campbell  Vaughan  Memorial  Library 
Acadia  University 


L'exemplaire  filmd  fut  reproduit  gr§ce  d  la 
g6n6rosit6  de: 

Harold  Campbell  Vaughan  Memorial  Library 
Acadia  University 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetd  de  l'exemplaire  film4,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim^e  sont  filmds  en  commen9ant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film^s  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  —^(meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmds  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  6tre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  film^  d  partir 
de  Tangle  supdrieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

THE   PERFUME-HOLDER 


THE  PERFUME-  ^ 

SN®  sxfi  ffs^  ^s^  HOLDER 

A    PERSIAN    LOV-E    POEM 
BY   CRAVEN   LANGSTROTH 

BETTS    #\5)   ^\S)   (^\g)  ^s^   ^\g,   (^v,^ 


SAALFIELD  &  FITCH, 

PUBLISHERS, 

12  BIBLE  HOUSE,  ASTOR  PLACE, 

NEW  YORK. 


'^1 


Copyright  by 
CRAVEN  LANGSTROTH  BETTS, 


TO 

R.  G.  W. 


Xll'^H 


ite- 


THE  PERFUME-HOLDER. 


|AIR  NaishdpUr,  two  hundred  years  ago, 

Then  free  and  prosperous  from  the  Turkish  foe, 


Like  a  bright  jewel  out  of  Allah's  hand 

Lay  gleaming  in  the  green  Khorassan  land. 

Far  to  the  east,  the  insidious  desert  soil 

Strangled  the  verdure  with  its  sandy  coil. 

But  north  and  south,  the  languorous  noon-day  breeze 

Waved  the  light  leaves  of  lime  and  cypress  trees 

Across  the  hills,  within  whose  broken  row 

The  city  glimmered  in  the  vale  below. 

Along  the  road  that  led  from  Ispahan 

Was  heard  the  tinkling  of  the  caravan, 

Trailing  its  dusty,  sinuous  passage  down 

Unto  the  market  of  the  wealthy  town. 


1 


I? 


Piercing  the  hot  and  dazzling  ether  through 
A  hundred  minarets  burned  against  the  blue. 
The  purple  roofs  of  mosques,  to  Summer's  smiles. 
Flashed  all  their  panoply  of  porcelain  tiles, 
While  from  their  walls  the  names  of  Allah  shone, 
In  many  a  bold  and  quaint  device  of  stone. 
Color  and  light  cast  everywhere  their  glow 
Among  the  booths  and  houses,  row  on  row ; 
It  flamed  from  off  the  palace  court-yard  flags, 
And  blazoned  even  the  cringing  beggar's  rags. 
The  ponds  and  fountains  glittering  steely-cold 
The  sun's  keen  alchemy  changed  to  liquid  gold. 
And  marble  cupolas  and  awnings  white 
Flashed  in  full  splendour  of  reflected  light, 
While  green  pomegranate  leaf  and  pregnant  vine 
Caught  deeper  lustre  from  the  ethereal  shine. 
Teeming  with  fierce  and  palpitating  heat, 
The  sunbeams  wove  their  network  o'er  the  street, 
And  gleamed  along  the  cream-white  painted  walls 
Of  gardens  and  the  roofs  of  market  stalls, 
And  showered  a  mist  of  yellow  radiance  down 
O'er  hill  and  valley,  desert,  wood,  and  town. 


ff 


%f 


WAS  noon  in  Naishdpiir— -the  gay  bazaars 

Heaped  with  their  wares  from  'neath  ten  thousand 
stars 

One  ant-like,  vast,  conglomerate  market  made, 
Cross-scored  with  throbbing  avenues  of  trade. 
But  yet  the  hum  of  traffic  even  there 
Hushed  at  the  high  Muezzin's  call  to  prayer, 
And  too  oppressive  was  the  stare  of  day 
For  active  toil  along  the  market  way. 

Some  moments  longer  surged  the  stir  and  bruit 

Around  the  coffee  stalls  and  booths  of  fruit, 

A  moment  longer  did  the  merchant  stop 

To  close  the  little  shutters  of  his  shop, 

Then  in  his  slippers  homeward  hurried  fast 

To  mid-day  prayer  and  the  noon's  brief  repast. 

In  the  brass-workers'  noisy  bright  bazaar 

Stilled  was  the  chaffering  and  the  hammers'  jar, 

And  silence,  with  its  solemn,  reverent  grace. 

Softly  down  spreading  from  reposeful  space, 

Rested  an  hour  upon  the  market-place. 


NE  man,  a  poor  artificer  of  brass, 

Stirs  not  as  forth  the  hurrying  vendors  pass; 


But  soon  as  stillness  rests  upon  the  street, 

Springs  from  his  cross-legged  posture  to  his  feet, 
;  Puts  by  the  lantern  he  had  shaped  that  day, 

I  Looks  up  and  down  the  cleared,  deserted  way, 

j  Takes  down  the  bowl  of  curds  and  loaf  of  bread 

'  That  stand  upon  a  shelf  above  his  head, 

1  Hooks  up  a  curtain  o'er  the  narrow  space 

Which  forms  his  doorway  to  the  market-place, 
,'  Casts  one  more  look  along  the  farther  wall, 

Then  hides  himself  behind  the  portal  shawl. 

NE  might  have  heard  within  that  curtain  soon 
A  tapping  through  the  hot  and  quiet  noon; 
A  strange  man  this — 'tis  sure  for  greed  of  gain 
He  doth  at  work  the  noontide  hour  remain; 
i'  It  was  his  custom  —  no  one  notice  took ; 

He  was  to  all  a  strange  and  sealed  book ; 
♦  No  one  came  near  him  but  to  buy  or  sell; 

]|i  They  named  him  Selim  the  Unsociable. 

That  any  one  should  think  it  worth  his  care 
Why  the  brass-worker  spent  his  hour  of  prayer 
Behind  his  curtain,  save  for  closer  shade, 
Had  never  on  his  fellows'  minds  been  laid. 


It  well  might  seem  that  for  such  watchful  heed 
Was  little  use;  —  for  there  was  naught,  indeed, 
Save  vagrant  dogs  along  the  shining  track, 
Sleeping  like  pious  Moslems,  in  a  pack. 
Snarling  in  dream,  because  the  heated  bricks 
Smote  them  in  poignant  fancy  like  the  kicks 
Of  Allah's  Faithful— snapped  their  jaws  in  pain, 
Then  rolling  over  stretched  their  limbs  again. 


UT  there  came  one  who  in  that  quiet  street 
Listened  intently  to  the  hammer's  beat; 
You  might  have  marked  him  by  his  furtive  eye 
A  man  of  cunning,  dangerous,  shrewd,  and  sly; 
At  Selim's  booth  he  made  a  sudden  stand, 
Lifted  the  curtain  with  a  stealthy  hand 
And  peered  within— a  single  ray  of  light 
Flashed  up  a  marvellous  work  upon  his  sight; 
For,  rested  Selim's  bended  knees  between. 
Glowing  with  new  and  richest  coppery  sheen, 
Engrossed  with  scrolls  of  purest  arabesque,  | 

A  perfume-holder,  airily  grotesque, 
Wrought  all  of  brass,  pierced  round  with  lace  designs 
And  burnished  fine  between  the  mottoed  lines; 


5 


A  miracle  of  rare  and  patient  art 
Informed  by  genius  working  from  the  heart, 
Such  as  might  hold  the  incense  at  the  shrine 
Of  Allah  or  of  Mahomet  the  Divine: — 
One  might  forego  all  sense  except  the  eyes 
To  be  possessed  of  such  a  wondrous  prize. 


?i  t 


|0U  in  the  misty  amethystine  West 

Know  not  with  what  a  rare  and  pungent  zest 


The  Persian  in  his  drier  purer  air 
Values  his  perfume  even  as  his  prayer. 
The  perfume-holder— an  effeminate  w'lim 
To  you — holds  yet  an  honored  place  with  him: 
Scatter  within  it  but  some  glowing  coals, 
Lo!  from  the  brazier  forth  the  perfume  rolls, 
Like  the  warm  incense  of  the  votive  breath 
From  lovers'  lips  as  they  unclose  in  death ! 


O  lie  awake  in  one  bliss-haunted  dream 
Where  leaves  are  rustling  and  where  fountains  gleam, 


Within  a  cool  and  lustrous  colonnade, 
While  near,  some  large-eyed,  love-enchanted  maid 
Leans,  lily  crowned,  against  a  marble  jar, 

6 


Caressing  languidly  her  light  guitar, 

Her  fingers  glancing  o'er  the  shimmering  svrings 

Like  play  of  moonbeams  on  soft  bubbling  springs, 

Wooing  the  soul  of  melody  divine 

From  murmuring  streams  and  groves  of  h  .unted  pine, 

Her  bosom  heaving  to  the  waves  of  sound 

That  have  in  one  delicious  languor  drowned 

The  outer  sense,  leaving  the  spirit  free 

To  revel  in  a  swoon-like  ecstasy — 

And  then  to  watch  the  perfume  vapor  curl 

With  many  a  slender  and  fantastic  swirl 

Swung  through  the  vibrant  music,  till  the  air 

Loaded  with  tinkling  sounds  and  odors  rare 

Filters  soul-deep  within  the  fleshly  mail. 

Till,  rapt,  escaping  from  the  body's  jail, 

The  spirit  issuing  through  its  portal  flies 

To  fairy  realms  of  wonder  and  surmise — 

That  were  indeed  a  taste  of  Paradise! 


UT  with  no  i       ight  of  this  the  sordid  spy 
Cast  on  the     asterpiece  his  curious  eye. 
He  was  a  merchant,  trained  in  every  guile 
Of  trade — to  fawn,  to  browbeat,  and  to  smile 

7 


Careful  to  hold  in  every  scheme  he  tried 
Of  fraud  or  rapine  law  upon  his  side. 
His  talon  fingers  in  their  trembling  clutch 
Pulled  back  the  shadowing  curtain  overmuch, 
And  Selim,  of  his  presence  made  aware, 
Looked  up  and  met  the  stranger's  cunning  stare 
And  frowned  to  note  the  hard  and  vulture  trace 
Of  avarice  on  the  man's  ill-omened  face. 
The  other  answered  with  a  smile  compressed : 
"  Has  Allah,  O  Selim,  made  the  time  of  rest 
Too  long,  or  has  he  given  too  short  a  day, 
That  thus  you  work  the  noontide  hour  away? " 
But  Selim  threw  his  head  back  at  the  word, 
For  all  distasteful  was  the  voice  he  heard. 
Like  some  proud  courser  that  with  action  grand 
Tosses  aside  a  strange  caressing  hand. 
And  answered,  "  Little  rest  doth  surely  lie 
With  him,  O  merchant,  who  with  prying  eye 
Looks  either  in  the  day-time  or  at  night 
On  that  which  others  fain  would  keep  from  sight. 
Which  none  concerns.     To  question  not  were  best. 
Whether  I  work  at  mid-day  or  I  rest." 


8 


jE  set  aside  the  work  of  perfect  art 

And  waited  for  the  stranger  to  depart, 
Who  turned  his  furtive,  greedy  glance  upon 
The  perfume-holder  ever  and  anon. 
He  named  a  price,  but  Selim  shook  his  head; 
That  special  thing  was  not  for  sale,  he  said. 
The  other,  following  his  practised  guile. 
Answered  again  with  unbelieving  smile, 
He  had  a  friend  named  Marco,  from  the  north. 
Who,  buying  works  of  art,  had  ventured  forth  ' 
From  Venice  even  to  the  farthest  East, 
Would  give  the  price  of  many  a  lordly  feast 
For  such  a  thing  as  this,  if  he  would  sell:— 
But  Selim  no  persuasion  might  compel 
To  barter;  wrathful  that  he  still  was  pressed, 
He  locked  his  treasure  in  a  cedar  chest. 
Then  urged  upon  the  merchant  one  by  one 
The  less  inspired  works  that  he  had  done— 
They  were  but  few,— till  forth  the  stranger  went 
And  left  him  in  his  solitude  content. 


HE  merchant  paused  when  he  was  out  of  sight 
Of  Selim's  booth,  his  face  with  passion  white-, 

9 


(, 


With  fingers  clenched  and  with  a  frowning  brow 
He  seemed  to  register  some  mental  vow. 
The  swart  Egyptian  boy  who  stood  before 
A  rich  brass-dealer's  widely  swinging  door, 
Watched,  with  a  keen  and  curious  surmise 
The  knavish  purpose  in  the  stranger's  eyes, 
For  every  pantomimic  act  betrayed 
Insatiate  greed— the  reckless  lust  of  trade. 

STRIDENT  voice  came  calling  from  afar 
The  new-born  hour— at  once  the  clattering  jar 
Of  hammers  rose  again  upon  the  air ; 
The  craftsmen  hurried  to  the  busy  fair, 
And  through  its  alleys  poured  the  human  flood 
Like  buzzing  bees  a-swarm  within  a  wood. 
But  Selim,  in  his  resting  hour  intent 
And  keenly  active,  languid  now  was  bent 
Above  his  tinkering,  as  though  toil  had  grown 
Distasteful  to  him  since  the  noon  had  flown. 
His  hammer  strokes  less  eager,  blow  on  blow. 
Fell  on  the  brass,  grew  slower  and  more  slew, 
And  once  he  clasped  his  brow  convulsive-wise. 
As  though  it  ached,  and  hid  his  downcast  eyes. 

lO 


P''      t 


mtm 


[T  was  a  hot  and  glaring  afternoon; 
The  hum  in  the  bazaar  like  a  bassoon 
Grew  constant— presently  a  shout  of  throngs 
Came  booming  with  the  beat  of  drums  and  gongs, 
While  now  and  then  the  fitful  snorting  blast 
Of  trumpets  on  the  echoing  air  was  cast. 
The  shuffling  sound  of  many  slippered  feet 
Came  like  a  wind-gust  down  the  dusty  street; 
The  loiterers  left  their  seats  beneath  the  walls, 
Lured  by  the  shouts  and  noisy  trumpet  calls;  ' 
The  loud-tongued  barter,  with  the  hammering  clashed 
Was  stilled  as  by  the  glittering  pageant  flashed. 
The  last  Shah's  eldest  son, 'twas  bruited  wide. 
Was  riding  to  the  mosque  to  wed  his  bride, 
Next  to  the  Shah  the  first  of  Persian  land  ' 
And  named  The-Shadmv-of.the.Sultan's.Hand^ 
Yet,  for  his  mother  was  of  humble  strain. 
Who  might  not  as  an  heir  the  throne  atta'in. 


j^lUT  Selim,  hooded  in  his  changeless  thought, 
Ul     Scarce  heard  the  tattle  which  the  gossips  brought; 
None  sought  to  pass  an  easy  word  with  him; 
They  deemed  his  silence  but  a  surly  whim. 


II 


mmMmi^^MmSm^- 


BBBB 


n 


He,  heeding  little  wliat  was  thougiit  or  said 

So  that  they  left  him  quiet,  in  his  head 

Kept  turning,  like  the  burden  of  a  swound, 

One  memory  that  coiled  his  mind  around. 

He  let  the  lantern  uncompleted  stand 

And  from  the  l"ttle  finger  of  his  hand— 

His  left  hand — with  a  pensive,  wistful  look, 

He  carefully  a  linen  bandage  took, 

And  this  unwound,  a  tiny  hammered  thing 

Of  brass  which  bound  his  finger  like  a  ring 

Was  shown,  round  which  the  tissue  angry  red, 

Twinged  fitfully  as  bit  the  figured  shred. 

He  wet  the  cloth,  replaced  it;  and  a  chime 

Of  thoughts  went  swinging  backward  to  the  time 

When  she,  the  idol  of  his  heart,  had  stept 

Across  the  doorway  where  his  wares  were  kept, 

And  in  a  careless,  blithely-mocking  vein, 

Had  given  him  this  little  cirque  of  pain. 

Ay,  he  remembered,  how  upon  that  morn 

He  felt  with  ecstasy  his  soul  was  born, 

How  he  had  gazed  with  flushed  and  rapt  surprise 

Upon  her  lissome  form  and  laughing  eyes. 

Fairer  than  houri  to  the  bosom  pressed 


la 


•M|a»««ti«riWMi 


mitim  (ri*jil^)»iwwiwi|rtllwiwiWW 


Of  Mahomet  in  the  regions  of  the  blest. 
Except  her  eyes,  which  glittered  each  a  star, 
Her  face  was  veiled,  as  in  the  white  cymar  ' 
She  glided  through  the  market  and  by  chance 
Ca..^ht  the  obeisance  and  adoring  glance 
Of  Sehm,  sitting  cross-legged  in  his  booth; 
And  as  she  saw  the  passion  tide  of  youth 
Sweep  to  his  eyes,  she  smiled  and  oft  again 
Returned  him  salutation— now  and  then. 
Paused  for  some  moments  at  his  little  stall, 
And  then  coquettishly,  by  letting  fall 
Some  corner  of  her  veil,  like  hide  and  seek. 
Disclosed  the  rounded  contour  of  her  cheek 
Of  ripening  olive,  like  the  moon  in  mist. 
And  blush-rose  lips  that  pouted  to  be  kissea. 


NE  day— 'twas  one  of  two  such  happy  days 
As  star  perhaps  a  lifetime— through  the  ways 
She  came  to  visit  Selim  and  to  buy 
Some  trinkets  of  his  patient  industry. 
Lingering  she  stayed  an  hour;  made  him  tell 
The  way  he  wrought  the  brass;  with  playful  spell 
She  drew  from  him  the  use  of  lead  and  pitch; 

13 


sfi 


She  took  the  die  and  punch  and  made  him  teach 
Her  hand  to  cut  the  ductile  metal  through ; 
One  little  die  she  held,  'twas  virgin  new— 
A  tiny  whorl  the  pattern  was — she  tried 
It  on  a  strip  of  brass,  and  he,  to  hide 
Her  slender  fingers  from  a  missing  blow. 
Shielded  them  with  his  stouter  hand,  and  so, 
As  once  the  stroke  she  missed,  and  still  again, 
He  joyed  to  think  for  her  he  suffered  pain. 
At  length  she  gave  him  back  the  die— he  swore 
With  truthful  look  no  one  should  use  it  more 
Except  himself,  and  he  but  on  a  gift 
For  her.     Her  lustrous  laughing  eyes  were  lift 
To  Selim's  face,  as  doubting,  then  with  care 
Mocking  his  earnestness,  she  told  him  where    , 
An  aged  kinsman  dwelt,  whence  he  might  take 
The  present  he  intended  her  to  make. 
Then  into  childlike  playfulness  did  pass 
Her  mood ;  she  took  a  tiny  shred  of  brass, 
And  twisting  it  with  pincers  in  a  ring 
Round  Selim's  finger  tightly,  tried  to  bring, 
Mischievously,  across  the  strong  man's  face 
A  wince,  but  failed,  and  smiling  left  the  place. 

14 


|ND  Selim,  never  from  that  hour  at  rest, 
Had  shrined  her  lovely  image  in  his  breast. 
A  few  more  times,  as  she  had  done  before, 
She  to  the  market  passed  his  open  door; 
But  though  his  eyes  with  loving  hunger  sued, 
That  one  sweet  meeting  never  was  renewed. 
Now  all  his  purpose  to  one  issue  ran: 
Upon  that  day  he  straight  for  her  began 
The  perfume-holder,  lavished  his  fond  heart 
Upon  it;  for  it  eased  him  of  his  smart 
To  feel  he  wrought  her  service  and  to  see 
Its  beauty  growing  like  a  stately  tree, 
Rooted  in  art,  as  with  the  tiny  whorl 
He  would  its  richly  shining  round  impearl 
With  wheels  of  light  that  glimmered  on  the  view, 
Fashioned  to  let  the  writhing  pungent  through. 
For  him  she  had  one  name  and  only  one; 
As  with  each  noon  the  precious  work  was  done. 
He  muttered  as  he  placed  with  care  apart 
The  gift,  "  'tis  for  The-Star-of-Selim's-Heart." 
The  star  that  lighted  up  the  lonely  sky 
Of  his  rapt  spirit  and  then  passed  him  by. 


15 


i^ 


h  p 


|N1)  now  'twas  finished — every  tiny  scroll 
Was  perfect — but  the  work  in  Selim's  soul 
Went  ever  onward  like  the  incessant  beat 
Within  his  hearing,  through  the  mid-day  heat, 
Of  hammers  in  their  tinkling  changeless  chime 
Dinning  industrious  symphony  to  time. 


E  took  the  punch-like  tool,  the  slender  die 

That  formed  the  whorl,  and  with  a  saddened  eye 
Defaced  the  pattern  with  his  file  and  cast 
The  useless  steel  upon  the  street,  then  passed 
His  hand  across  his  forehead  as  in  pain. 
And  took  the  unfinished  lantern  up  again. 


,'.  ( 


|UT  while  he  worked  a  warm  Elysian  dream 
Fell  o'er  him  like  the  sunset's  dying  gleam. 
Upon  the  wings  of  passion  forth  he  flew 
To  meet  her  where  he'd  held  her  oft  to  view 
In  fancy,  all  unknown  to  her;  he  thought 
(Such  strangeness  in  a  dream  is  often  wrought) 
That  she  was  now  the  seeker — he  was — where? 
He  did  not  know,  he  did  not  seem  to  care — 
But  down  the  eddying  current  of  his  swound 

i6 


VI«-xiiJ<«'»»B«^?l 


There  came  some  one  and  told  him  she  had  found 
The  perfume-holder— and  then  he  straightway 
Became  the  perfume-holder,  and  she  lay 
Caressing  hand  upon  it  and  did  speak 
It  fair  and  pressed  it  with  her  velvet  cheek, 
Letting  her  silk  of  hair,  a  shining  pall, 
Like  Allah's  blessing,  o'er  its  richness  fall. 
Then  for  one  moment,  through  the  hammered  brass 
He  felt  his  soul,  the  soul  of  Selim,  pass 
And  thrill  unto  the  magic  of  her  touch; 
The  moment  flitted— then  came  voices  such 
As  Allah  sends  to  true  believers  when 
He  tells  them  of  the  crooked  ways  of  men, 
That  called,  "O  Selim!  where  is  Selim? "  soon 
A  voice  made  answer  in  a  pleasant  tune, 
"  I  will  find  Selim,  for  I  know  him  by 
The  ache  within  his  finger;  "  then  the  sky 
Was  clouded  with  the  sorrows,  sighs,  and  pains 
Of  every  soul  that  on  the  earth  remains. 
And  forthwith  went  the  form  that  held  the  voice 
Among  them,  making  from  them  all  the  choice 
She  knew  was  Selim's  pain;  with  that  began 
By  the  dream  process,  building  up  a  man 

17 


Like  Selim,  out  of  things  that  half-time  fell 
And  crumbled  in  the  falling;  but  the  spell 
Kept  on  till  all  was  finished,  head  to  feet; 
Then,  for  one  moment,  Selim  was  complete, 
Sitting  in  the  bazaar,  his  right  hand  laid 
Upon  his  hammer  and  the  lantern  stayed 
Between  his  knees— but  nowhere  now  was  seen 
The-Star-of-Selim's-Heart— naught  but  the  sheen 
Of  brass-ware,  and  the  crowd  that  thronged  again 
The  market,  talking  of  the  marriage  train. 


HWAS  but  a  moment  more — and  the  bazaar 
Vanished  again — upc  i  an  ivory  car 
He  sat,  the  lovely  lady  by  his  side, 
And  she  was  wreathed  with  roses  like  a  bride. 
Starred  all  with  jewels  like  the  milky-way. 
Or  fair  as  dew-fall  in  the  early  ray 
Of  morning ;— like  the  Shah's,  his  kaftan  white 
Blazed  with  a  diamond,  one  deep  fount  of  light 
A  Peri's  tear-drop — and  thus  forth  they  rode 
Midst  cheers  that  wave  on  wave  around  them  flowed, 
Drawn  by  a  gold  and  crimson  harnessed  span 
Of  cream-white  horses,  such  as  at  Ispahan 

i8 


""'^"™™"?9''^<fW*W 


The  Shah  drives  slowly  on  great  days  of  state, 
Sitting  in  pomp  of  sovereignty  sedate. 
Flowers  rained  upon  them,  and  their  coursers'  fee- 
Trod  cloth  of  gold,  as  down  the  echoing  street 
They  moved  unto  their  bridal— till  a  band 
With  him,  The-Shadow-of-the-Sultan's-Hand, 
Met  them,  and  a  tumult  thence  arose— 
For  he,  the  prince,  had  claimed  the  bride-and  blows 
Were  struck  to  blood  ...  as  Selim  wounded  lay, 
His  jewel  and  his  bride  were  borne  away. 

^GAIN  the  vision  changed— his  memory  fought 
^1     Against  oblivion— he  remembered  what 
Still  made  his  finger  ache— and  she  again 

Was  with  him  on  a  wild  and  lonesome  plain. 

A  ponderous  iron  mace  was  in  his  hand ; 

Like  mighty  Rustem  did  he  forward  stand, 

All  husked  in  mail,  and  a  tremendous  boss' 

Of  burnishd  brass  his  aching  arm  across 

Held  up ;  a  company  of  devils  roared 

Against  him,  and  amidst  the  evil  horde 

Two  Satans,  fierce  and  hideous  to  view 

As  that  White  Demon  god-like  Rustem  slew. 

»9 


& 


But  the  sweet  lady  far  too  much  for  fear 
Loved  him ;  she  came  his  wounded  hand  anear 
And  kissed  it,  and  the  white  Satans  roared  in  scorn 
Upon  him,  and  his  sinewy  breast  was  torn 
With  passion,  and  he  heaved  his  mace  in  air, 
And  rushing  forward  did  for  fight  prepare. 


^! 


i 


HEN  suddenly  he  woke— his  finger's  pain 
Aroused  him — he  was  in  his  stall  again. 


A  poor  brass-worker,  his  bright  visions  flown, 

Unloved,  ignoble,  downcast,  and  alone. 

A  laughing  crowd  their  jeeri^  upon  him  kept, 

For  he  had  moved  and  muttered  as  he  slept ; 

And  foremost,  as  the  laughter  rippled  long. 

The  crafty  merchant  stood  amidst  the  throng. 

He  spake—"  O  Selim,  your  brave  dreams  must  spin, 

From  poppy-head,  or  some  old  potent  bin 

Of  wine  of  Shiraz !     Those  who  hashish  eat, 

Go  thus  like  fakirs  through  the  crowded  street 

More  strange  adventures  than  were  ever  sung 

By  great  Firdusi  of  the  silver  tongue." 

And  then  continued,  while  the  mirth  ran  high 

And  Selim  gathered  courage  to  reply— 


20 


*I  too  can  dream,  but  not  of  ladies'  lips 
And  battle,  but  of  merchandise  and  ships; 
For  as  in  sleep  I  rested  this  mid-day, 
I  dreamed  that  Selim  came  and  straight  did  say, 
"  *I  have  a  perfume-holder  here— 'tis  thine, 
If  thou  wilt  give  me  silver  pieces  nine ;      '' 
Sell  it  to  Marco,  if  thou  seest  fit 
And  let  us  both  a  profit  make  from  it. ' 
I  see  my  Selim  sitting  in  his  booth- 
Say,  has  my  vision  spoken  to  me  truth? " 

|0  perfume-holder  have  I  here  for  you," 
Said  Selim,  "all  I  sell  is  in  your  view." 
The  crafty  merchant  made  him  this  repeat. 
With  guileful  purpose,  to  the  crowded  street. 
Still,  once  more  he  began-"  But  dreams  are  sent 
From  Allah  "-"  Some  are,  not  yours  "-Selim  bent 
His  eye  upon  him,  "  I  have  these  to  sell  ; 
If  you  have  wish  to  purchase,  it  is  well,' 
You  shall  have  value  straight  and  good;  I  need 
Money  to-morrow— make  no  further  plead; 
If  of  my  wares  you  want  not,  forthwith  cease. 
And  leave  me,  in  the  Name  of  Whom  be  Peace." 

ax 


.  H 


A 


T  length  the  merchant  bought  of  Selim's  art 
With  greed,  yet  loathing  with  his  coin  to  part ; 
Then  took  his  leave,  and  Selim,  richer  grown 
By  a  few  silver  coins,  could  call  his  own 
Nothing  for  sale,  save  where  neglected  lay 
The  unfinished  lantern — now  he  worked  away 
Upon  it  fiercely,  as  though  by  this  his  thought 
Might  cease  its  whispering,  or  Time  be  brought 
To  mend  his  pace — and  till  the  market  gate 
Was  ready  to  be  closed  he  lingered  late 
At  work,  when  rising,  with  what  anxious  care 
He  fastened  tight  the  little  shutters  where 
The  treasured  gift,  his  pride  and  solace  stood ! 
Then  wandered  forth  in  an  unquiet  mood. 

HAT  night,  uneasy  dreams  without  surcease 
Assailed  his  spirit,  robbed  him  of  his  peace. 
That  one  short  night  seemed  fraught  with  danger  more 
Than  all  the  hundred  nights  that  went  before 
When  he  his  treasure  in  the  chest  had  kept 
In  the  deserted  market-place;  he  slept 
But  little,  now  that  once  he  surely  knew 
Another  lusted  for  it;  on  he  threw 

aa 


,  t 


n  i«a<i—iiiV     III 


imilmmtit^ 


His  clothes,  and  aimless  wandered  up  and  down 
The  winding  streets  and  alleys  of  the  town; 
Still  ever  coming  where  his  treasure  lay 
Behind  the  palisades  which  blocked  the  way 
To  the  brass- workers'  moonlit,  still  bazaar:— 
The  savage  dogs,  come  baying  from  afar. 
Leaped  at  the  gate  which  held  'twixt  them  and  him 
As  though  they  fain  had  torn  him  limb  from  limb. 
A  watchman  with  his  lantern,  on  his  round, 
Drew  near,  attracted  by  the  barking  sound, 
Looked  at  him,  knew  him,  and  passed  otherwhere— 
While  he  with  steadfast  eyes  kept  gazing  there 
Between  the  bars,  toward  where  the  shadow  fell 
Across  his  shop— a  lonely  sentinel. 
Thus  constantly  until  the  dawn  of  day, 
He  lived  the  weary  hours  of  night  away. 


|CARCE  did  the  market  barriers  open  drop, 
Than  he  again  was  hammering  in  his  shop 
At  the  unfinished  lantern.     He  next  took  down 
The  perfume-holder;  wrapped  it,  that  the  town 
Might  not  view  what  he  carried;  then  returned 
All  quickly  home,  and  with  the  silver  earned, 

23 


.1 


.    \  'f 


\ 


'l   I 


\  --f 


Adorned  himself  in  splendid,  rich  array 

As  though  it  were  for  some  high  holiday; 

Tied  with  deft  care  the  perfume-holder  too, 

Within  a  silken  cloth  of  creamy  hue 

In  which  he  placed  a  scented  billet,  writ 

In  flowing  verses  when  some  rhyming  fit 

Had  seized  his  spirit  in  the  cool  midnight — 

A  skilled  caligrapher  did  it  indite 

With  many  a  courteous  phrase  of  love  profound- 

And  all  was  with  a  flowery  border  bound. 


ET  me  paint  Selim's  portrait,  as  he  stands 
The  perfume-holder  lifted  in  his  hands, 
All  garnished  fair  and  ready  for  his  part 
Of  service  to  the  mistress  of  his  heart. 
The  full  fresh  turban  of  white  hand-wove  stuff. 
Embroidered  with  a  glittering  thread  of  buff, 
A  high  topped  hat  of  yellow  camlet  winds; 
1 1  Beneath,  a  snow-white  linen  skull-cap  binds 

His  temples  with  a  narrow  line,  gleams  fair 
Above  his  bronzed  face  and  coal-black  hair ; 
{\  His  head  is  straight,  symmetric,  small  of  size, 


Alert  as  any  steed's,  and  his  dark  eyes 

24 


Are  lustrous  like  a  steed's;  an  eager  grace 
Dwells  in  the  outlines  of  his  mobile  face; 
The  lips  are  proudly  set,  the  nostrils  fine, 
The  features  delicate  and  aquiline, 
Surmounted  by  a  wealth  of  crispy  locks; 
His  tunic,  brightened  by  the  mazy  flox. 
Is  like  the  turban  white,  and  doth  unfold 
Now  here  or  there  the  waving  lines  of  gold; 
A  knife-case  in  the  silken  shawl  is  placed, 
Which  winds  with  graceful  fold  his  slender  waist 
No  statelier  nor  braver  youth  to  see 
From  Shiraz  to  Khorassan  is  than  he! 

HE  messenger  he  won  to  his  emprise 
1     Was  an  old  woman,  good,  discreet,  and  wise; 
But  ask  me  not  the  look,  as  he  did  place 
His  love-gift  in  her  hands,  of  Selim's  face, 
Or  while  he  watched  her  dragging  steps  depart 
To  her  the  one  fixed  Star-of-Selim's-Heart. 
He  lingered  there,  while  soul  and  visage  burned 
Waiting  until  the  ancient  dame  returned. 
Some  hours  later,  back  she  came  at  last. 
There  was  no  need  to  question  her,  he  cast 

25 


.    .'1 


f 


1 


'(: 


One  look  within  lier  hands,  where  she  did  lift 
Mutely  toward  his  view  the  unopened  gift, 
Then  said,  "  The  lady,  by  the  Shah's  command. 
Married  The-Shadow-of-the-Sultan's-Hand. " 


HEN  Selim  bowed  his  head,  and  in  that  place 
A  death-like  pallor  smote  him  in  the  face. 
He  tottered  toward  the  door  as  though  in  years, 
Pierced  by  a  grief  that  struck  too  deep  for  tears. 
Holding  in  numb  embrace  the  brazen  jar 
He  found  himself  again  in  the  bazaar, 
The  while  with  quivering  lips,  distractedly. 
He  whispered  texts  of  old  philosophy, 
Striving  for  consolation ;  but  no  heed 
He  gave  them:— ah,  how  often  in  our  need. 
When  earth  is  black  beneath  the  blackened  skies, 
They  fail,  these  peaceful  sayings  of  the  wise! 


ET  through  his  agony  was  woven  a  tune 

Of  words  that  clogged  his  tongue  and  like  a  rune 
Beat  dull  reiteration  in  his  brain 
And  mingled  with  his  bitter  flow  of  pain: 

26 


!• 


"  WHETHER  at  Naishdptlr  or  Babylon, 
Whether  tite  Cup  with  sweet  or  bitter  run,  ' 
The  Wine  of  Life  keeps  oozing  drop  by  drop, 
The  Leaves  of  Life  keep  falling  one  by  one. "' 


HESE  were  the  words  of  one  in  Selim's  town 
Whose  mighty  spirit  had  brought  high  renown 
To  Persian  land  from  every  land  abroad; 
In  Naishdpiir  they  held  him  like  a  god;  ' 
He  knew  the  amazing  portents  of  the  stars, 
But  yet  his  soul,  foiled  at  life's  prison  bars', 
Testing  the  hollowness  of  earthly  state, 

Mocked  sadly  at  irrevocable  fate. 

And,  spite  of  all  he  had  by  genius  won. 

Took  up  the  olden  tale  of  Solomon, 

Chanting  the  dreary  burden  o'er  again, 

"  'Tis  vain-the  life  we  live,  like  death,  is  vain'  " 


|ND  Selim  turned  to  work,  because  he  felt 
1     His  reason  totter  as  he  slowly  spelt 
The  import  of  the  blow  upon  his  soul;— 
In  work,  unceasing  work,  he  might  control 
The  sickness  at  his  heart,  and  so,  alas! 


27 


ti 


if 


■' 


Might  help  the  miserable  days  to  pass. 
He  had  forgot  or  had  not  cared  to  change 
His  holiday  vestments;  down  the  lengthened  range 
Of  the  bazaar  the  whole  brass-working  tribe 
Broke  forth  upon  him  with  loud  laugh  and  gibe, 
That  bit  not  like  the  fangs  of  anguish  grim,— 
^    *  Yet  like  a  swarm  of  gnats  they  worried  him; 

Longing  to  be  alone,  his  soul  felt  wronged 
As  round  his  path  the  coarse  mechanics  thronged 
With  mock  obeisance,  gestures  rude,  uncouth, 
Jeering,  as  they  pursued  him  to  his  booth — 
For  little  love  they  bore  him.     Taunt  him  well! 
Was  he  not  Selim  the  Unsociable, 
Too  proud  to  mingle  with  his  equals  there? 
They  crowded  close  to  see  how  he  would  stare 
(For  a  surprise  awaited  him)  as  he, 
Drunk  with  despair's  unmanning  ecstasy, 
Unto  his  small  store  plodded  heavily. 

HE  booth  was  plundered— all  his  wares  were  gone! 
And  worse — his  tools!  he  could  not  think  upon 


Their  loss ;  their  value  was  not  great,  but  dear 
Almost  as  were  his  fingers ; — misery  drear 

38 


Settled  upon  him;  only  now  remained 
The  unfinished  lantern,  but  deformed  and  stained 
As  though  the  plunderer  held  its  value  light 
And  set  his  heel  upon  it  out  of  spite. 

E  sat  a  long  time  in  his  little  shop 
Without  a  motion,  with  his  head  a-prop 
Upon  his  hands,  a  ruined  man,  bereft 
Of  all  he  held  most  dear;  to  him  was  left, 
When  he  a  little  cleared  his  mind  to  think, 
And  reason  halted  upon  madness'  brink, 
Only  the  gift  returned  which  he  still  held, 
The  perfume-holder;  he  will  be  compelled 
To  purchase  bread  and  tools;  now  he  will  go 
And  from  th  •  merchant  buy  a  lease  of  woe. 

BLURR  and  deafness  fell  on  eye  and  ear- 
Confused  him-nor  his  senses  grew  more  clear 
Till  he  before  the  merchant  took  his  stand, 
The  precious  piece  of  brass  within  his  hand. 
The  place  he  looked  upon  with  goods  was  rich  •        • 
Fine  armor  blazed  from  many  a  stand  and  niche- 
Sabres  from  Samarcand  and  costly  shawls 


I' 


ro 


^I- 


From  Indian  looms  were  hanging  on  the  walls, 
And  Orient  ivories,  carvings  from  the  Isles, 
Within  their  lacquered  cabinets  stood  in  files. 
The  shelves  were  heaped  with  stuffs  of  rich  brocade; 
Mirrors  of  steel  with  silver  frames  inlaid 
With  jewels,  glittering  daggers,  hookahs  fine, 
And  all  the  costly  wares  of  Levantine 
And  Indian  markets,  crowded  all  the  space. 
As  Selim  gazed  with  wonder  round  the  place 
Coarse  faces  covered  him  with  leering  scan, 
Fit  tools  of  service  to  the  sordid  man 
Whose  slaves  they  were,  and  downcast  Selim  felt 
The  transient  courage  he  had  groped  for  melt 
Clean  from  his  heart — his  one  despondent  thought 
Made  desolation — all  things  'gainst  him  wrought 
A  vast  conspiracy — for  the  merchant  now 
Began  with  smiling  and  contemptuous  brow 
To  scorn,  to  cheapen,  and  to  vilify 
That  he  had  been  so  eager  once  to  buy ; 
Then  asking  Selim  what  his  need  might  be, 
He  told  him  he  would  take  as  surety 
The  handiwork  and  lend  him ;  sadly  then 
Said  Selim,  "  I  need  brass  and  tools  again 

30 


m^^ 


To  carry  on  my  trade."     The  merchant's  smile 
Changed  to  a  cold  and  stealthy  look  of  guile 
As  forth  he  brought  a  well-assorted  pack 
Of  half- worn  tools;  but  Selim  started  back- 
Then  clutched— the  things  were  his!  faintness  did  seize 
Upon  him  and  he  felt  his  spirit  freeze 
And  shrivel;  distant,  indistinct,  and  small 
Looked  all  things  round  him— darkness  seemed  to  fall. 
He  was  not  sure  he  had  been  telling  how 
The  tools  were  his,  or  still  quite  calmly  now 
That.they  were  stolen  from  him,  or  that  dumb 
He  had  been  standing,  deathlike,  dazed,  and  numb. 

Suddenly  came  the  merchant's  hateful  face 

Close  to  his  own,  with  horrible  grimace; 

Forth  sprang  two  monstrous  hands,  that  straightway  lay 

Grasp  on  his  brazen  treasure  and  away 

Bore  it  in  triumph  to  a  distant  shelf; 

Then  rushed  the  hot  fit  on;  he  flung  himself 

In  rage  against  the  servants— wildly  fought— 

Until  his  mind  a  little  space  was  brought 

To  hear  men's  voices  dwindling  through  the  dim 

From  faces  that  he  knew;  one  said  of  him 

After  another,  Selim's  could  not  be 

31 


I 


The  perfume-holder — they  were  sure  that  he 
Owned  nothing  of  the  kind — they  knew  him  well 
And  all  his  work — he  yesterday  did  tell 
He  had  not  such  a  thing ; — and  as  he  strove, 
Struggling,  to  right  himself,  they  dragged  and  drove 
Him  forth,  and  nothing  but  a  blurr  was  there 
Of  dust  and  pressure,  anger  and  despair. 
Blows  rained  upon  him;  one  last  cruel  stroke 
Felled  him  with  torture; — then  his  spirit  broke! 

Ht  n^  V  T*  ■••  ^ 

HE,  who  had  been  to  one  unhappy  heart  • 

The  load-star  of  its  being,  sat  apart 
In  the  zenana's  silken  privacy, 
A  married  captive,  never  to  be  free. 
But  o'er  The-Shadow-of-the-Sultan's-Hand 
Some  time  she  ruled ; — the  heart  she  could  command 
Of  that  fierce  fighter  in  his  pleasant  mood; — 
A  second  wife,  in  sovereign  solitude, 
All  gave  her  homage,  all  her  triumph  graced, 
Even  she,  the  first  wed,  whom  she  had  displaced. 


HE-Shadow-of-the-Sultan'S'Hand  at  first 
Was  courteous  and  devoted — but  he  nursed 

32 


Higher  ambition  than  in  flowers  to  bind 
His  spirit  to  the  rule  of  one  girl  mind, 
Howe'er  enchanting,  for  his  heart  was  set 
On  deeds  of  violence;  he  could  ne'er  forget 
The  zest  for  blood  which  followed  him  from  birth - 
He  was  a  bold,  intrepid  son  of  earth, 
A  graceful  tiger  in  a  leash  of  silk, 
As  mild  and  pleasant  as  the  cocol's  milk, 
When  free  from  passion,  but  resolved  and  strong 
And  masterful  when  purpose  swept  along 
His  rapid  tide  of  mind;-a  lion  hunt 
In  which  he  ever  bore  the  danger  brunt, 
Or  thought  of  some  resistless,  vengeful  raid 
Into  Afghanistan,  more  often  swayed 
The  councils  of  his  heart,  than  any  charms 
He  found  within  the  circle  of  her  arms. 
And  she,  poor  lonely  discontented  dove, 
Brooded  upon  it,  felt  if  she  in  love 
Had  been  so  favored  in  her  lot  to  fall 
Unto  the  heart  that  loved  her  all  in  all, 
However  lowly,  howsoe'er  distressed 
By  circumstance-by  poverty  oppressed- 
Life  had  been  happier,  shared  with  such  a  one, 

33 


(! 


I 


Than  that  now  passed  with  this  proud  monarch's  son. 

Unlike  the  frivolous,  tranquil,  idle  crew 

Who  chattered  round  about  her,  often  grew 

Intolerable  to  her  vivacious  mind 

The  still  zenana — health  and  spirit  pined. 

But  came  distress  far  greater  when,  one  day, 

Returning  from  some  distant  wide  foray 

Into  Afghanistan,  her  husband  brought 

A  captive  home,  who  now  held  all  his  thought. 

The  superseded  wife  grew  languid,  pale; 

Till — part  by  some  new  thought  to  countervail 

Her  weak  depression,  part,  she  might  consult 

A  learned  astrologer,  whose  art  occult 

In  all  that  region  was  most  famous — they 

Who  lived  about  her  counselled  her  one  day. 

She  should  a  few  leagues'  distant  journey  take 

(The  sad  monotony  of  her  life  to  break), 

Apast  the  turquoise  hills,  and  level  land 

That  fringed  the  province  with  its  shifting  sand. 


ygHOOR  lonely  star  of  one  lone  heart !  some  love 


Her  soul  still  yearned  for  like  that  heaven  above 


The  Frankish  women  sought — she  had  not  dreamed 

34 


That  it  had  crossed  her;— its  Dale  „,.; 

Athwart  h.      •  •  ^      radiance  gleamed 

Athwart  her  v.s.on  through  her  veil  of  tears 

Fairer  as  grew  the  distance  of  the  years'      ' 

Bravely  again  she  toolt  life's  burden  up' 

Hope  flowered  once  more;  she  had  not  drained  the  cup 

Of  bitter  vmtage  to  its  turbid  lees  ^ 

She  and  her  escort  started  as  the  breeze 
Of  early  evening  swept  the  scented  glades 
And  waved  the  banners  o'er  long  colonnades, 
Ruffled  t  e  ctron  blooms,  and  filled  the  air 
W      coo  perfume  and  freshness  everywhere, 
Rol    d  l,ke  cocoons  the  streamers  of  the  sky, 
Soothed  the  hot  vall.^c  ,...%u  :..  „ '' 

And  frohcked  m  the  billowy  white  burnous 
The  heated  city  fanned  with  dewy  breath 

And  even  revived  the  falfring  pulse  of  death! 

pRVANTS  and  slaves  upon  the  camels  laid 

To  take  the  journey,  sitting  on  the  packs 
That  hung  to  either  side  the  camels'  backs 

And  as  a  guard,  to  rearward  and  before, 

35 


i 


ij-jMiiih 


Some  twenty  warriors  on  their  camels  bore 
Long  lances,  sceptres  for  each  humpy  throne, 
Like  staves  of  ancient  kings  in  days  unknown. 


HE  camel  train  from  out  the  gateway  passed 
And  left  the  hills  behind — then  travelled  fast 


Across  the  waste,  whose  open  length  was  soon 
O'erhung  by  the  large  lemon-colored  moon. 
The  guards  from  time  to  time  their  challenge  sent 
To  plodding  footmen  on  their  passage  bent 
Unto  the  city  walls,  who  straightway  told 
Themselves  as  home-bound  miners;  they  did  hold 
A  moment  (after  they  the  mines  had  passed), 
A  band  of  all  these  travellers  the  last; 
And,  at  the  captain  of  the  train's  demand 
Why  they  were  journeying  in  that  lonely  land, 
They  answered  humbly,  they  had  carried  out 
Into  the  distant  desert  thereabout, 
The  corpse  of  one  who  had  died  raving  mad 
In  prison;  stripped  the  body  what  it  had 
Of  worth  upon  it — now  but  from  their  toil, 
With  their  poor  recompense  of  sordid  spoil. 
The  captain  forward  turned  his  camel's  head 

And  told  his  lady  what  the  men  had  said. 

36 


).    L 


■r'j'*T*'»_.vg'','v.'-  iH '; 


^AUG„T,u„.er  marked  the.  .ave,.„„e.aa, 
n^     They  camped_at  evening  took  again  their  wav 

And  when  at  last  arose  the  second  sun  '^' 

They  left  the  desert.  the,r  long  journey  done- 
And  to  the  village  now  their  lady  brought,      ' 

Where  lived  the  famed  astrologer  she  sought 


FTER  some  messages  had  been  exchanged 
A  visit  for  the  lady  was  arranged 
To  the  astrologer  .-his  house  was  small 

And  undistinguished;  but  upon  the  wall 
Of  a  nch  room  where  he  received  his  guest 
A  t.me-piece  hung  of  rarest  art;  impressed' 
With  mystic  figures  stood  an  astrolabe 
F.ne  wrought  in  brass  when  science  was  a  babe 

Brought  from  Egyptian  land;  an  open  book      ' 
Lay  on  a  table;  in  a  crypt-like  nook 

ZZnt^  TT'"'' '"''■     ^-^ '-^"'d  wife 
Wistfully  eyed  the  man  of  learned  life- 

A  sage  sedate-a  form  of  mark  and  no'te 
Where  even  a  beggar  in  his  frowsy  coat  ' 
Looks  almost  like  a  king-his  tall  black  cap 
And  simple  flowing  robe  of  woolen  nap 

37 


<i>t.dw#t;ii> 


Were  of  the  finest,  and  his  brow  and  eye, 
Majestic,  as  through  gazing  on  the  sky 
And  pondering  deeply  o'er  its  hidden  lore 
He  much  of  its  sublime  expression  wore. 
Full  to  the  waist,  wide  o'er  the  massive  chest. 
His  sable  beard  swept  down  his  scarlet  vest. 
Lending  grave  dignity  and  benignant  grace 
Unto  his  lofty  form  and  thoughtful  face. 
This  saying  rose  from  those  who  saw  him  then, 
That  '*  no  men  should  wear  beards  but  Persian  men." 


I      :' 


HE  sad-faced  lady,  come  to  seek  his  aid, 
Took  courage  as  his  features  she  surveyed — 
Calm,  courteous,  wise,  he  seemed ;  she  told  him  all 
Was  needful  for  his  science;  told  the  thrall 
And  empty  hunger  of  her  heart,  and,  too. 
Briefly  her  history,  for  she  saw  he  knew 
Much  of  the  weakness  of  worn  souls,  for  he 
Was  deeply  read  in  the  philosophy 
And  poetry  of  Iran  and  the  East, 
And  soothed  her  hungry  spirit  with  a  feast 
Of  thoughtful  phrases  culled  for  counsel  by 
Men's  souls  to  comfort  life's  extremity, 

38 


)     V 


Down  from  the  words  of  Solomon  the  Wise 

To  the  star-gazer  poet,  he  who  lies 

In  her  own  city  in  unfevered  rest, 

The  burial  stones  and  clods  across  his  breast. 
|HE  words  of  counsel  past,  ere  she  her  way 

Took  thence,  he  told  her,  he  the  following  day 
The  issue  of  his  studies  of  the  nio-ht 
Would  send  her.     She  too  watched  the  twinkling  light 
Of  stars,  that  maze-like  through  the  heavens  kept 
Mysterious  way  .—beneath  them  mortals  slept 
As  though  no  seeds  of  fate  within  them  lay:- 
Keepers  of  how  many  secrets  they 
Of  human  hearts,  revealers  of  how  few. 
Though  they  eternal  shine  upon  our  view. 
Ah,  they  did  never  to  her  soul  impart 
That  one  had  called  her  "Star-of-Selim's-Heart!  " 

|EXT  morn,  in  scented  silk  the  missive  came- 
TO  the  Most  High  and  Honorable  Dame 

Wife  of  The-Shadow-of-the-Sultan's^Hand 
J'atrest  of  ail  the  fair  of  Persian  land  ! 
In  name  of  Allah,  whom  the  Faithful  call 
The  Merciftil,   Victorious,  Chief  of  All  j— 

39 


ii 


i', 


The  Stars,  O  Lady,  speak  the  truth,  but  man 
Not  always  can  their  mystic  answer  scan  ; 
Such  power  seldom  is  to  mortals  given  ; 
I  thrice  tO' night  have  read  the  face  of  heaven. 
And  thrice  this  ansiuer  hath  been  given  to  me — 

"A    FLIGHT    OF    BLACKBIRDS." 

May  it  rest  with  thety 
O  Lady,  to  interpret  them  aright, 
And  may  they  throiu  upon  thy  darkness  light 
According  to  thy  heart ;  and  may  the  peace 
Of  Allah,  who  alotie  gives  souls  increase, 
Be  shown  to  thee.      This  is  the  prayer  devout 
Of  him  the  unworthiest  of  thy  servants  j  doubt 
Not  He  will  send  thee  grace. 

Written  by  the  hand 
Of  Hassan  of  the  Astrolabe,  to  command. 


HE,  taking  these  words  with  her,  now  began 
Her  homeward  journey,  pondering;  still  ran 


Her  thoughts  along  one  line ;  her  mind  was  bent 
Upon  the  answer  of  the  stars;  it  went 
Ever  before  her  like  a  vision  blest, 
Guiding  her  to  the  hopeland  of  her  quest. 

40 


I    I 


jT  was  that  chill  and  silent  time  of  night 
Preceding  sunrise,  ere  the  dawning  light 
Grows  creeping  on  the  world;  mysterious  hour, 
When  Azreal  comes  with  all  his  awful  power 
To  loose  the  souls  of  men  and  women  old 
From  out  their  bodies,  and  to  close  enfold 
Their  fluttering  spirits— beareth  them  away 
Unto  the  realms  of  midnight  or  of  day. 

HE  camel-train  paced  slowly;  rose  the  dust 
As  each  huge  foot  into  the  sand  was  thrust 
And  fell  again  full  quickly,  beaten  down 
By  the  damp  air;  to  right  and  left  a  frown 
Against  the  sky  betokened  hills;  the  sun 
Above  the  left  ones  soon  his  course  to  run 
Prepared;  the  watchful  guards  from  time  to  time 
Turned  in  their  saddles  to  behold  him  climb 
The  hill-tops;  o'er  the  desert's  darkened  gray, 
Ahead  of  them,  the  lighter  film  of  day 
Pressed  a  faint  outline;  an  uneven  spur 
Dimly  defined  against  the  misty  blur, 
Breaking  the  outline  showed  them  Niishdpiir. 


41 


N     ' 


S  peered  the  sun's  brow  o'er  the  hills  again, 
Startled  by  that  or  by  the  camel-train, 
A  clamorous  flight  of  birds  upon  one  hand 
Streamed  from  some  object  on  the  distant  sand. 
The  lady,  resting  in  uneasy  sleep, 
Awoke,  as  o'er  her  rose  the  rattling  sweep 
Of  wings,  and  from  her  litter  watched  them  float 
Ominous  and  black  against  the  heaven  remote, 
New  lighted  by  the  half-way  risen  sun, 
Which  o'er  the  pallid  sky  his  splendor  spun. 
Back  to  her  mind,  as  from  a  written  page, 
There  rushed  the  words  of  the  star-gazing  sage, 
"A  flight  of  blackbirds  " — then  she  waved  her  hand 
And  gave  the  captain  of  the  train  command 
She  must  be  taken  straightway  to  the  spot 
Whence  came  the  birds  of  omen — but  he  not 
Without  remonstrance  did  her  will,  soon  day 
Would  scourge  the  desert  with  his  burning  ray. 
As  moved  the  slow  procession  toward  the  place 
The  sun  gazed  o'er  the  hill-tops — from  his  face 
His  streaming  golden  locks  were  shaken  wide 
And  swept  the  landscape  upon  every  side. 


42 


J, 


FAIREST  lady,- said  the  chief,  in  tones 

Sorevext,"letAiIah  hear  me.  'tis  the  bones 
But  of  a  man,  one  lost  or  made  away 

With  in  the  desert ;  others  for  a  prey 

Than  these  same  birds  have  found  him;  there  abides 

With  h.m  no  com,  nor  weapons  at  his  sides  " 

In  name  of  Allah,  Merciful  and  Just 
Dismount,  some  of  you  men,  and  straightway  thrust 

Around  h,m;  search  each  bit  of  cloth  and  bone 
10  see  ,f  aught  about  him  may  be  known." 

|NWILLINGLY,  and  cursing  the  delay 
1     Unto  themselves,  they  did  her  wish  obey. 
They  hfted  with  their  spears  each  ragged  clout 
And  wuh  their  muskets  moved  the  bones  about. 

|OTHING,  fair  lady,  nothing,"  said  the  chief, 
J     Chmbmg  upon  the  saddle  with  relief- 

Then  set  the  rest  in  motion,  well  content         ' 

To  quit  their  tarrying.      To  the  litter  went 

Some  minutes  after  one  who  lingered  late- 

Without  a  word,  but  with  a  smile  sedate.  ' 

Handed  his  lady  in  a  tiny  thing 

43 


Of  white  and  yellow;  round  it  was  a  ring 
Or  shred  of  brass,  twist  tight,  that  bore  along 
Each  edge  at  intervals  impression  strong. 
Irregular,  a  little  whorl,  which  she 
Looked  at,  surmising  of  its  history, 
Holding  it  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand 
Some  moments,  till  her  memory  might  expand 
Around  it,  and  revive  the  distant  day 
That  she  on  Selim's  finger  in  her  play 
Had  twisted  it,  and  limn  the  constant  gaze 
He  ever  held  for  her  along  the  ways, 
And  all  the  tender  love  and  rapt  surprise 
That  lighted  up  his  dark  and  thoughtful  eyes. 


O  this,  then,  he  had  come!     Ay,  well — alas! 
She  knew  the  little  pattern  on  the  brass 
As  tearfully  she  scanned  it — he  had  said 
(She  now  remembered)  in  his  little  shed, 
He,  poor  dead  Selira,    her  lone  worshipper, 
The  tool  that  made  it,  save  on  gift  for  her. 
He  ne'er  would  use;  yes,  he  whose  bones  now  lie 
Scattered  upon  the  sand,  beneath  the  sky. 
All  except  this  one,  this  small  finger-bone, 

44 


Pledge  of  his  love  which  she  possessed  alone, 
The  one  cold  token  of  his  constant  flame, 
Around  which  thoughtless  beauty  toiled  to  frame 
A  ring;  on  whose  dry  whiteness  beauty  now 
Shed  tears,  pressed  kisses,  then  with  head  a-bow 
Laid  it  within  her  fair  grief-laden  breast 
To  cherish  it  and  rock  it  there  to  rest. 

[HE  lusty  sun  stared  fiercely  from  on  high 
When  they  attained  the  city.     The  blue  sky 
Was  dazzling  clear,  save  where  some  fine-combed  clouds 
Straggled  across  it  like  the  souls  in  shrouds 
Speeding  to  heaven,  or  travellers  single  file 
Moving  one  way,  apart,  suspecting  guile. 
Wrapping  their  parching  bodies  from  the'  glare 
And  dusty  highway.      The  zenana's  air 
Unto  the  Star-of-Selim's-Heart  was  cool 
And  comforting,  as  fresh  from  out  the  pool 
Of  scented  water  on  the  rich  divan 
She  lay  and  o'er  her  waved  an  Indian  fan 
Held  by  her  favorite  maid:— two  little  girls. 
The  pets  of  the  zenana,  bright  as  pearls. 
Brought  her  a  present  which  he  did  command, 

45 


Her  lord,  The-Shadow-of-the-Sultan's-Hand, 
On  her  return  be  given  her.     Carelessly 
She  loosed  the  first  silk  wrappings — paused — for  she 
Saw  now  it  was  a  noble  work  of  art, 
Even  such  a  love  work  as  some  loyal  heart 
Like  Selim's  might  have  given  her: — she  unwound 
The  silk  with  wakened  care,  in  thought  profound; 
A  triumph  of  beauty !  he  had  promised  sure 
Even  such  a  gift; — alas!  he  had  been  poor. 
Each  thing  within  his  little  shop  was  rare. 
But  naught  therein  with  such  work  could  compare 
As  this  great  perfume-holder — for  indeed, 
Out  of  his  poverty — from  his  daily  need — 
He  had  not  time,  perchance,  with  his  employ, 
But  to  begin  for  her  some  little  toy. 
Faint  murmurings  were  thronging  in  her  ears, 
She  gazed  upon  it  through  a  mist  of  tears; 
t  Seen  midst  them,  the  entrancing  graceful  thing 

Seemed  indistinct,  gigantic,  wavering. 


> 


S  the  tears  fell  she  wiped  them  fast  away ; 
Then  seeing  more  clearly,  something  made  her  lay 
Grasp  on  the  brazen  vessel,  while  her  gaze 

46 


1 


<    I 


Grew  to  it  all  excitement  and  amaze- 
Then  to  her  bosom  pressed  it  with  a  sob: 
As  her  heart,  answering  with  a  mighty  throb, 
Shook  deep  her  being,  all  her  shrine  of  hair  ' 
Closed  round  the  perfume-holder  like  a  prayer! 


HERE— there— and  there  again  the  proof  of  love, 
Each  scrolled  and  burnished  strip  of  brass  above, 
Upon  each  ornamental  fillet's  round, 
The  same  neat-patterned  tiny  whorl  was  found! 
The  same  which  on  his  finger  once,  amused. 
She  fastened— from  the  die  herself  had  used! 


|ES,  Selim's  gift  had  come  to  her— his  love 
Had  found  her  after  death— and  there  above, 
Even  in  the  far  realms  of  bliss,  new  cheer 
Must  come  to  him;  had  she  not  grown  more  near 
Unto  his  spirit  though  his  outcast  bones 
Lay  bleaching  on  the  desert's  sands  and  stones. 
All  save  this  finger-token?     But  there— look! 
Carved  on  the  brass,  his  words— the  open  book 
Of  Selim's  love— the  words  he  never  said 
In  life— his  message  to  her  from  the  dead! 

47 


-^-«fii|  iiiBiiii 


HE  sun  that  evening,  from  the  spot  the  train 
Had  halted  when  the  day  broke  o'er  the  plain» 
Might  then  be  seen  soft  barred  with  roseate  streaks 
Dying  away  between  the  western  peaks ; 
And  as  he  sank  from  view,  the  cooling  breeze 
Of  evening  rustled  in  the  breathing  trees, 
But  rose  at  night,  and  with  persistent  sweep 
A  requiem  along  the  wastes  did  keep, 
And  as  it  wailed  its  dreary,  weird  refrain 
Around  the  hills  and  o'er  the  barren  plain, 
Cast  heavy  handfuls  of  soft  sand  where  lay 
A  dead  man's  bones — and  when  the  face  of  day 
Looked  for  them,  lo !  the  desert  held  its  trust, 
Folded  forever  in  its  shroud  of  dust! 


|N  that  same  night,  the  wind  with  plaintive  sigh 
Entered  a  lonely  cloistered  turret  high 
Of  the  zenana  of  a  prince,  and  there 
Searched  out  a  dim-lit  chamber,  lifted  rare 
Spiced  odors  forth  along  the  midnight  air 
From  a  brass  perfume-holder — such  sweet  breath 
As  rises  only  at  a  monarch's  death. 


48 


IN  the  starred  duskness,  pale  and  dreamy-eyed 

I     A  woman  breathed  the  incense-watched  it  glide 

Out  toward  the  desert ;  one  hand  on  her  breast 

Dove-like  against  the  quivering  whiteness,  pressed 

A  silken  case- within,  a  little  bone 

And  piece  of  hammered  brass. 

No  more  is  known. 


49 


*""m*HP 


